


Mister Safety Catch is Our Friend

by coldhope



Series: discstuck drabbles [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Multi, discstuck crossover ficlets, don't ask me about the damn continuity, i told you i'd do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldhope/pseuds/coldhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Equius finally gets to shoot a bow that he doesn't break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mister Safety Catch is Our Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much the fault of [JumpingJackFlash](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingJackFlash/pseuds/JumpingJackFlash), who gave me the image and also gave me the language for Equius's starry eyes. You rule, dude. You rule so hard.
> 
> also there are likely to be more drabbles in this vein

"No wonder you are always breakin’ dem titchy little bows,” the troll rumbles. Troll for a certain definition of the word, that is; he’s grey, all right, and he’s obviously very strong indeed, but he lacks horns or hair or hemospectrum standing. “Dey are for people what can’t manage a proper bow, like dis what I got right here. I call dis der Piecemaker.”

It’s a siege crossbow. 

You watch as he hefts the thing in one hand without apparent effort. Stood on end it would not only be taller than Equius but taller than this creature as well, and instead of a single quarrel it is loaded with a bunch of them tied together, thick around as your thigh. You recognize siege weaponry from your studies; this sort of thing should have been mounted on a fuckin _cart_ , not casually hauled around as if it were a sidearm.

Equius is staring at the thing with what in any other troll you would call unbridled (heh) lust in his eyes. Detritus looks down at him, and while you are not at _all_ good at reading expressions on silicon-based lifeforms you think he might possibly be sympathetic. “Wanna try?”

At this point Nepeta squeaks and bounces over to you from her perch on the wall. You’re in...fuck, what had the humans called it, Pseudopolis Yard? The cop shop, apparently. They don’t have Threshecutioners or Cavalreapers or legislacerators or _any_ fuckin civilized kind of organizations but this Watch outfit is apparently in charge of enforcing sociability, God help them, and after Equius had been allowed to bemoan his woeful STRENGTH in multisyllabic phrases of such extraordinary tiresomeness you think even Kar would be hard put to match them, somebody had murmured something about Detritus and _his_ bow.

Kinda nice to get the fuck out of their University, you have to admit.

“M-may I?” Equius quavers, eyes shining. 

“Sure t’ing,” says all however many tons of alien troll, and hands him the thing. You can see the effort he expends not to stagger, but the astonished hopeful smile hasn’t left his face. Good. He doesn’t look like that often enough, you think.

Nepeta squeaks again and you absently reach over to pat her shoulder. “He’s got this,” you say.

Detritus shows him how to cock the weapon (you squash a mental snigger) but it’s obvious he’s already worked out how the winding mechanism goes, and it’s kinda unsettling how the string (thick around as a thumb) _sings_ under tension. Apparently these guys know that noise, cause there’s a general absconding from the area and some yelps.

Equius lifts the massive crossbow and sights, and fuck, you could tell him that thing is going to be as accurate as a fuckin hammer, no way can that many bolts tied together achieve any kinda fuckin aerodynamic efficiency, and he pulls the trigger and a lot of things happen at once.

The targets at the other end of the yard, which are basically straw or something with canvas ungulatebeast’s eyes stuck on them, vanish. Well, not vanish entirely. There are some bits of burning straw raftering down to the cobblestones and the wall behind them looks....a lot cleaner, like something’s given it a sandblast. 

And Equius is lying on his back several yards away with the Piecemaker clutched to his chest, apparently either knocked out or taking a little casual nap. Nepeta makes a noise that goes _right through_ your head and darts over to him, little pointy hands everywhere; after a moment he sits up, still holding the thing, for once not paying a goddamn bit of attention to his tiny moirail. 

Detritus knuckles over. “...Maybe I should warn you dat weapon has a kick.”

“It’s...quite all right,” Equius says, and something in his voice makes _you_ go over and have a look as well. He...

You have never seen him look like this and you have seen him in a number of extremely rare situations. He glances down at the bow in his arms and back up to Detritus and his eyes _shine_ , his eyes are stars, blue supergiants.

He has reached enlightenment, you think, and fuck if it ain’t touching as all hell. Only then a tired cross voice that is obviously used to being obeyed breaks the spell and _everybody_ stops what they’re doing and looks up as a gent in battered armor leans against the doorway and lights a thin cigar. 

“What,” he says, and you are reminded of Karkat with the sense of constant rage juuuust held in check, waiting for an excuse to snap its bonds, “do you think you are doing in my yard, the lot of you? Detritus, why do I even have to tell you not to let civilians play with that damn thing, put it away before somebody loses something that can’t be sewn back on. I want a word with you in my office and I also want the whole gang of _whoever the hell you are_ out of the Yard five minutes ago. --No, Mr. Stibbons,” he forestalls your wizard pal, who is responsible for bringing you here in the first place, “I really do not want to hear it. Detritus, inside, now.”

Apologetically Detritus retrieves his pet siege bow from your associate and knuckles his way on inside for a chewing-out. Equius is still sitting dazedly in the litter of straw on the cobblestones and staring at the utter annihilation of the targets he has wrought. You lean down and nudge him. 

“You heard the pink hornless alien Karkat, Eq. Let’s get a move on before any a us get a shoutin-at as well, yeah? I think you might need a very large and very stiff drink.”

“I think,” says Equius, staring at his shaking hands, “that I might need more than one.”


End file.
